


the best (of me)

by diphylleia



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleia/pseuds/diphylleia
Summary: Chanyeol had never been the kind to fall lightly, nor love mildly; he loved with his whole heart, and perhaps, that's what Jimin loved about him.[in which Baekhyun and Taehyung play match-makers to their poor, oblivious friends.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for nemo, I hope this was worth the wait and that I wrote your prompt well.
> 
> to everyone else, I understand our fandoms are supposed to hate each other - doesn't that ever get a little tiring? regardless, people have already sent hate and I no longer care. if you don't have anything nice to say, then please, complain about the pairing elsewhere.

As the college’s resident pianist, it wasn’t uncommon for Chanyeol to be called into choir practice on a regular basis. He’d never particularly signed up to participate in the school’s choir, and yet he’d always found himself sat in the corner, fingers dancing along the cold keys of the piano. He blamed Baekhyun for dragging him along in the first place; _we need a pianist_ , his friend had complained, _and wow, look at that, you’re a pianist._

Baekhyun had forgone mentioning the endearing blonde boy, the one with eyes that turned into crescents when he smiled and his voice reminiscent of anything angelic Chanyeol had ever heard.

Chanyeol often wished he’d never heard the other boy sing, for now he could identify the boy’s voice within the midst of a harmony – could hear the raw talent in the chorus of any song. The first time he’d heard Park Jimin sing, his fingers had fumbled over the keys and he’d fucked up the melody; Jongdae had cackled, loudly, and Chanyeol’s ears had burned bright red.

Jimin had sent him a soft smile amidst the chaos, something reassuring that had done nothing to lessen the blush across his face – it did absolutely _nothing_ to stop the way his fingers continued to fumble over the keys as the smile replayed over in his mind like an old cassette tape.

It was one of his only interactions with Park Jimin, and the thought still caused embarrassment to swell within his stomach. And adoration. But, Chanyeol spent his time trying not to think about that.

The morning Baekhyun had sauntered in, a grin on his face that did nothing but discomfort Chanyeol, he knew his friend had ulterior motives.

Chanyeol stared at him, waiting.

“So,” Baekhyun started, the sweet smile on his face bordering sickly, “The choir committee has decided to do something for Christmas, this year. Isn’t that great?”

He watched as Kim Taehyung, one of the best baritone singers in the college, perched himself atop the table with a matching smile upon his face. Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed, automatically – he didn’t trust Baekhyun, but Baekhyun _and_ Taehyung meant nothing but bad news. The two, when together, were nothing but a menace for Chanyeol’s brewing headache.

He averted his gaze to the musical score set out in front of him. A new Christmas song, something heavily piano based that part of him knew would match Jimin’s voice perfectly.

“Chanyeol,” Taehyung continued, swinging his legs back and forth beneath the table, “You’re a member of the choir, right?”

“Uh,” He let out, eyes moving between the two in front of him, “I just play the piano. And fill in for bass if someone’s sick.”

“So, technically, yes,” Baekhyun confirmed, his smile widening, “You are part of the choir.”

“Uh,” Chanyeol repeated, distrustful, “I guess?”

“Great,” Taehyung clapped his hands together, pulling a plastic tub from his bag and sliding it across the table to Chanyeol, “Pick one.”

“It’s for Secret Santa, you can stop looking so afraid,” Baekhyun said, and Chanyeol still didn’t trust him.

There was such a slim chance of him picking Jimin’s name that he refused to entertain the idea – there had to be 25 of them in the main choir, and another 3 musicians besides himself. He reached into the tub and withdrew a slip of paper, eyebrow raised at the other two watching him intently.

He opened the folded slip.

And closed it again.

“Have a nice Christmas!” Taehyung all but cheered as he retrieved the plastic tub and _skipped_ from the room.

On to his next victim, Chanyeol mused.

“Who’d you get?” Baekhyun asked, the glint in his eyes telling Chanyeol his friend knew _exactly_ who he’d got.

“How did you…” Chanyeol trailed off, sighing, “I changed my mind, I don’t want to know. Fuck you.”

He slid the paper into his pocket, trying to ignore the elation of anxiety as his mind whirled through a thousand thoughts per second – he had to buy a fucking gift for Park Jimin, the boy with a face that lit up like a Christmas tree when he laughed, with a voice Chanyeol wished to never forget and a smile that made Chanyeol’s world stop spinning.

Perhaps he was being dramatic, but this meant he might actually have to _talk_ to the other boy; another chance for him to embarrass himself.

Baekhyun was laughing, “Listen, this is a good thing. You can talk to him, find out what he likes… invite him for dinner, make a move, maybe make-.”

“Goodbye, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol had his music sheets in his hand and was out the door in record time, the papers held together loosely as he rushed from the piano room.

And, of course, his clumsy limbs and rushed state meant he ran into somebody.

And, of course, his music sheets scattered out, across the hallway. Their correct ordering gone.

And, of course, there stood Park Jimin, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped in shock.

Chanyeol wanted to disappear into the floor. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole, dropping him onto the floor beneath. No, he wanted the _world_ to open up, to swallow him into a black abyss so deep he’d never-

“I’m so sorry!” Jimin’s tone was nothing but apologetic, and he leaned down to gather Chanyeol’s music sheets.

Chanyeol could only stare, blush starting to paint its way across his cheeks as he suddenly wished he wasn’t as tall, as lanky, wished he was smaller and _invisible_ and had a brain that _focussed_ so he wouldn’t continue acting like some idiot-

“Uh,” Jimin continued, handing him a few of the papers he’d managed to collect, “Are you okay? You look a little…” The blonde paused, worry filling his eyes as he began pushing Chanyeol towards a bench, “Do you want to sit down?”

Chanyeol mentally shook himself, forcing a smile as he accepted the papers, “I’m fine! I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I should’ve stapled my work together, but I’m an _idiot_.”

He began to collect his papers from where they littered the hallway, uncaring that all thirty of his music score sheets and been disorganised – he was thankful the pages were numbered, unless he’d have to travel across campus and to the library to print them out _again_ , and honestly, he didn’t have the time nor money to do that.

Something warm brushed by his shoulder and he glanced up, a little shocked to find Jimin also picking up his papers. The proximity was almost suffocating, and he forced himself to snap out of it, to focus on the paper beneath his fingertips as he began to pile his work up.

They were done within moments and Chanyeol focussed upon the scores within his hands.

“Thank you,” He tried, coughing a little, “I’ve made us both late. Sorry.”

“It’s okay!” And _how_ was his voice as bright as his eyes? Jimin offered him a small smile, “I’m Jimin.”

“I know. Wait. Was that weird?” Chanyeol glanced up, his eyes wide and his ears on fire as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Chanyeol.”

“I know,” Jimin copied, and his smile was _blinding_.

Chanyeol laughed, the sound bubbling from his throat before he had a chance to stop it – Jimin somehow smiled brighter, his eyes turning into the crescents that Chanyeol considered art, as he let out a small laugh. And, wow, Chanyeol wanted nothing more than to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“You’re late for practice,” Chanyeol let slip in attempt to distract himself, fingers toying with the edges of his work.

Jimin raised an amused eyebrow, “As are you.”

“I have to sort through these pages,” He admitted, sheepishly, “Can’t turn up to play piano with my scores a mess.”

“Let me help,” Jimin said, sliding the papers from Chanyeol’s hands and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Staring, Chanyeol could hardly believe how his day was progressing. He slowly lowered himself to sit, trying not to think about the rings on Jimin’s fingers, nor the way his own hands could engulf the other’s so easily. The two sat in silence, the only noise filling the empty hallway was the ruffling of papers.

With Jimin’s help, they sorted through the papers quickly – Chanyeol was almost disappointed with how little time it took, wanting nothing more than to remain in the other’s presence for as long as he could. Without seeming like a creep.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said, quietly, offering his hand to help Jimin stand up.

Jimin’s hand slid into his, the skin soft (and cold), completely disappearing beneath Chanyeol’s own. They shouldn’t fit together, like this, not so easily; this was not how the world worked. He pushed his papers into his bag, not risking another mess before they even reached practice. Jimin laughed, and Chanyeol felt his heart stutter in his chest.

Jimin waited until they’d almost reached the auditorium in which the choir practiced, “Your hands are warm.”

“Your hands are cold,” Chanyeol responded, ignoring Jongdae (who’d almost fallen from his chair when he noticed Jimin and Chanyeol had walked in together).

Choir practice seemed to fly by – and Chanyeol had been right, the melody accompanying the bridge felt like it was _made_ for Park Jimin. The first time he heard Jimin rehearse the bridge, he had to fight his fingers to continue, to not freeze up and make it obvious to the entire choir that Park Jimin affected him. Because, he did. A lot. Jimin’s voice was soft, his tones controlled more than Chanyeol thought he’ll ever have the skill to control in his life.

The last thing he expected was for his musical performance professor to find him at the end of practice – Junmyeon had always been a cool guy, the kind who was always down to let you leave early for lame excuses, and marked you as present when you turned up 40 minutes late. Regardless, he rarely saw Junmyeon outside of class, for the man was always neck deep in some form of arts event.

Or distracted by that one pink haired TA, the tech assistant for every theatre performance Junmyeon arranged. Baekhyun called him Seokjin, but he was beyond trusting any words that left his friend’s mouth.

Chanyeol greeted his professor with raised eyebrows.

 “Chanyeol, do you have a moment?” Junmyeon asked, surprising Chanyeol further when he called out, “And Jimin. This won’t take long.”

Pulling his sleeves beyond his fingers, Chanyeol distracted himself further by pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, praying he looked less awkward than he felt. Jongdae offered him a pat on the back as he left the practice hall, sending a grin over his shoulder as Chanyeol stared at his professor in slight suffering.

“I’ll make this quick,” Junmyeon continued, nodding at Jimin as he joined them, “Our end of semester Arts celebration is next week, you’ve both performed there before.”

They nodded.

“Our preliminary performance slot is empty – the one just before intermission,” The professor informed, rocking back on his heels, “I was hoping, perhaps, the two of you could fill that slot…?”

Jimin’s mouth opened to reply, but Chanyeol’s shock beat him to it, “You mean to say we have a _week_ to prepare something for the end of semester Arts Evening?”

The vocalist’s mouth fell shut in realization.

Junmyeon nodded, glancing at the watch upon his wrist, “Originally, a senior dancer was to perform – but he’s flying home early, this year.”

“Fucking Yixing,” Chanyeol said under his breath, earning a disapproving eyebrow raise from his professor.

“There must be other dancers available that night,” Jimin finally said, rubbing a hand over his face, “Someone _must_ have a routine prepared.”

“I don’t _know_ any dancers,” Junmyeon explained, before sighing, “Will you do it?”

“I’m in,” Jimin answered easily, looking up at Chanyeol, “If you are.”

“Uh,” _Well obviously, I am now_ , he thought, “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” Junmyeon grinned, checking his watch once again, “I have to go. I’ll see you both on Monday – that gives you the weekend to prepare something, yes?”

 _No_ , Chanyeol wanted to say, _a weekend is not enough time to perfect a performance with someone who makes his heart fucking stutter._

“Okay!” Jimin’s tone was far brighter than it should’ve been, “We’ll see you Monday.”

Chanyeol watched Junmyeon leave, before uttering, “We’re fucked.”

“Maybe,” Jimin said, and he was _grinning_ , “You have songs, right? We can use one of those.”

“I might,” Chanyeol stared at him, “How do you know I have songs?”

Jimin looked nervous, for a split second, before he smiled shyly, “My friends and I often use the studio next to yours, in the music department. I may have eavesdropped, once or twice?”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re talented, Chanyeol,” Jimin replied, the genuineness in his eyes making Chanyeol avert his own gaze, “I enjoy listening to you.”

“Oh,” He swallowed, looking around the empty room, “Thanks. When would you like to meet?”

All he could think about was Jimin, singing _his_ songs, with that voice of his. It was going to be a tough week, yet everything felt irrelevant except for impressing Jimin. He was an idiot, yes, clumsy, too; if he made it to the night of their performance without first embarrassing himself, it would be a literal Christmas miracle.

Jimin thought for a second, before replying, “I don’t have any classes tomorrow. Do you?”

“Music theory until lunch, we could meet after?”

“I’ll bring food, we can use the music studios,” Jimin waited for Chanyeol’s nod, before offering a small smile, “It’s a date, then. See you tomorrow!”

And just like that, the boy with the blinding smile was gone, leaving Chanyeol to stare after him in a daze. He was going to embarrass himself, and Jimin was going to realise how much of an idiot he was and never speak to him again. Not only that, he had to show Jimin his _own_ music, the music he’d written with his heart on his sleeve and 4am thoughts lining the pages.

He’d show Jimin his recent work, compositions that not even Baekhyun had heard yet – and hope they were presentable, because the end of semester Arts Evening had always been a big event. It was the night that the college chose to show off their strongest department, and hopefully, bring in the sponsors with money to invest.

There was also the fact that scouts were not uncommon at these events – scouts for big entertainment companies with eyes desperate for young minds full of potential. Chanyeol had never been awfully bothered about being scouted, he didn’t mind the direction his life was taking him in and sleepless nights worried about impressing the higher ups was not on his agenda. Well, not in the way it was Baekhyun’s.

 

☽ ☾

 

Chanyeol struggled to find concentration in his music theory class, his eyes constantly flittering over to the clock on the wall counting down the seconds until Jimin would be here. _It’s a date, then_ , Jimin had said, the words echoing through his mind like an empty tunnel – the only music he’d particularly shared was the odd covers on his Soundcloud account, or the times he’d helped Jongdae piece together something eye-catching for his recital.

It took him a few seconds to realise when the class had ended, Baekhyun’s slap to his forehead bringing his mind back into the classroom. He scowled up at his friend, before gathering his things and shoving them into his bag with little care.

As promised, he found Jimin lingering in the corridor outside of his lecture hall – a lazy smile on his face from where he leaned against the wall, and a bag of what Chanyeol assumed was lunch in hand.

Chanyeol’s heart might have generically missed a beat. He didn’t think about it.

“I booked studio three,” Jimin said in greeting, holding up the food, “Do you like donuts?”

“For lunch? Obviously,” Chanyeol replied, watching as Jimin’s smile spread into a grin.

“I brought sushi, just in case.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes as they entered the music studio, letting his bag slide to the floor as they set themselves up in front of the Mac. He busied himself with logging onto online files, locating the playlist he’d created last night for today’s purpose. Jimin remained quiet, adjusting one of the microphones so it would be within reach if they needed it.

“So,” He started, loading up one of his tracks, “I have a few ideas as to what might be suitable.”

Jimin hummed in reply, placing the food onto the desk and opening the box of donuts.

“Do you have any idea what you want to perform?”

“Something slow, maybe?” Jimin answered, sliding one of the sushi rolls into his mouth, “I might be able to choreo something, then.”

“Choreo something?” Chanyeol repeated, eyebrows raised, “You dance?”

Jimin mirrored his expression with an eyebrow raise of his own, “I major in dance.”

“Oh,” He let out, rather dumbly, “I thought your major was music.”

“Chanyeol,” Jimin replied, and Chanyeol did _not_ feel a shiver down his spine at the smooth way his name left Jimin’s lips, “I don’t study music.”

He stared at the other for a few moments, before saying, “But, you’re in choir.”

“Anyone can be in choir,” Jimin then laughed, and Chanyeol _knew_ that, “I like to sing.”

 _I like to listen to you sing_ , is what Chanyeol prevented himself from saying.

“I like your voice,” Chanyeol said, before _realising_ what he’d just said and _blushing_ , “When you sing, I mean.”

Jimin _beamed_ , “That means a lot to me, Chanyeol. Especially from you.”

“Especially me?”

“I mean, yeah. You wrote the song for Hoseok’s audition, right?” Jimin questioned, picking up another piece of sushi.

Chanyeol looked down at the food, and _not_ at the bare skin through Jimin’s ripped jeans, “He’s a talented dancer.”

“It was beautiful. And you,” Jimin paused, pushing a roll of sushi between Chanyeol’s lips, “You’re going places, Park Chanyeol.”

He focussed on chewing his food, cheeks burning a bright crimson as he tried to make sense of those words. Sure, Chanyeol’s work was presentable, but it wasn’t exactly the art that was Park Jimin on stage – his voice was beautiful, it wasn’t even his _major_ … and now the dancer wanted to sing one of his songs, wanted to _dance_ to one of his songs.

Chanyeol felt like he was waiting for the punchline of a bad joke.

“Thank you,” He said, quietly, meaning it more than he’d perhaps ever meant anything.

Pressing play on the first track, Chanyeol allowed the instrumental to filter through the speakers and fill the air within the room so he wouldn’t have to. What was he even supposed to say to that? Chanyeol hadn’t even been aware that Jimin had known his name before that day, never mind his _music_.

He was unsure for how long they sat there, sifting through the tracks of the playlist he’d created for them – Jimin noted down the numbers of the tracks he particularly liked, as Chanyeol was yet to name everything beyond ‘untitled o1’. Jimin would point out the odd bridge of a song he loved, making Chanyeol flustered and wordlessly flattered.

“I think this one,” He reached over Chanyeol, pointing to track ‘untitled o3’ on the computer screen.

“I think it could work,” Chanyeol agreed, trying to ignore the heat of Jimin leaning against him.

Jimin nodded, biting his lip, “I could choreo something for this part over the weekend.”

“I already have a verse and chorus worth of lyrics, if you want to read through them?” Chanyeol continued, reaching into his bag for his lyrical notebook, “But, I mean, they don’t have to be the lyrics we use. We can change them if they suck.”

“I’m almost certain they don’t suck,” Jimin murmured, eyes scanning over the lines of lyrics as Chanyeol replayed the song in the background, “Can you sing the verse for me, first? Just so I have a feel of it?”

“Uh,” He let out, eyes wide, “I don’t sing.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin asked, “You have an entire notebook of lyrics, and you don’t sing?”

“In front of other people,” Chanyeol clarified, “In front of people who can actually sing.”

“Everyone can sing.”

“Some better than others,” He added, staring down at his own lyrics.

“Please?” Jimin pushed, opening his eyes wide in a kicked-puppy sort of way.

And, obviously, Chanyeol melted.

“Turn around,” He ordered, watching as Jimin grinned and swivelled around on his chair.

Chanyeol may have fallen for Jimin – had perhaps already fallen for the boy before the mess of yesterday’s chance meeting.

His singing was rather stilted, at first, his lack of confidence prominent in the way he stumbled over his own damn lyrics – it didn’t take long for him to lose himself in the music spilling from the computer, his voice growing confident as the song progressed. As he ran out of lyrics to sing, his mouth fell shut and he scribbled the words coming to mind onto the notepad.

Jimin turned back to him, eyes wide and mouth silent as he started the song again.

So Chanyeol sang again, and Jimin watched him – it was somehow overwhelming, and Chanyeol shut his eyes, opening them in surprise when he heard the beautifully smooth voice of the boy next to him joining in. They sang together, then, Chanyeol’s low voice contrasted highly against the control of Jimin’s.

He loved Jimin’s voice.

After the song had ended once again, silence filled the recording studio – it wasn’t an awkward silence, almost reflective, until Jimin ruined it by punching his arm. Hard.

“ _I don’t sing_ ,” Jimin mimicked, “What was _that_? Why do you never sing in choir?”

“Um,” Chanyeol said, like it answered Jimin’s questions, “Anyway. I think this is the song for you.”

“Sing it with me,” The other insisted, “For the performance.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?” Jimin continued, frowning, “I think our voices work well together. You can sing the end verse, and I’ll dance.”

Chanyeol stared at him, “What?”

“Chanyeol,” Jimin said, rather seriously, “Let’s do this. Together.”

_Well, fuck._

“Okay,” He agreed, biting the inside of his cheek, “How are the lyrics?”

“Beautiful,” Jimin grinned, “Like I knew they would be.”

They spent the remainder of their afternoon working on the track, Jimin running through the song on his own enough times to remember the lyrics as Chanyeol scribbled edits onto his notepad, editing and replacing words as he added more to further complete the song. At some point, they moved on to the donuts, and Chanyeol wondered how it could be so easy for them to click together like this. How Jimin could laugh and joke with him, could sit so closely to him and shove donuts into his mouth like the first time they’d spoken hadn’t been that week.

Chanyeol knew, then, that he was well and truly fucked – this felt like a hole he couldn’t climb out of. If they’d never spoken again, it would’ve been easier. If Jimin’s smile wasn’t so blinding, his eyes so bright, this would’ve been easier. If Jimin wasn’t _Jimin_ , this would’ve been easier. Easier to pull himself together and move on, instead of acting like some high schooler with a boy crush making his ears blush pink and his heart confused.

Working through until the evening, Chanyeol rubbed at his tired eyes as he felt somewhat accomplished. They’d made genuine process on their song and Jimin had pretty much memorized Chanyeol’s lyrics; there were six days until the performance and Chanyeol was feeling less dread line his stomach, replaced by anticipation and excitement. They both enjoyed performing.

“Let’s wrap up,” Jimin eventually said, and he somehow looked just as awake as he had that afternoon, “You look tired.”

The only thing Chanyeol remained particularly unhappy with was the bridge, something about it not quite sitting right each time they listened to it. Jimin claimed it sounded fine, but agreed it felt a little lacking – Chanyeol planned to work on it over the weekend, and, hopefully, have something worthy to show their professor on the Monday.

Nodding, Chanyeol stifled a yawn and slid his belongings into his bag, “We worked hard.”

“We did,” Jimin agreed, pulling on his bomber jacket, “I’ll be at the dance studio, tomorrow. Will you be here?”

Chanyeol nodded, “I have to work on the bridge.”

“Don’t stress too much, Chanyeol, not everything needs to be perfect.”

_How can it not when I’m working with you?_

They said their goodbyes as they packed their things, exchanging numbers for the ease of communication. Chanyeol’s mind, for once, felt blank – it was a peaceful, almost elated kind of feeling. He supposed that’s what being around someone like Jimin must feel like, his presence was so bold, _bright_ , it had an impact on those around him.

 

☽ ☾

 

He didn’t see Jimin the next day, pretending that not even a slither of him was disappointed. Holed up within the recording studio, nothing but frustration bloomed every time he poured over the bridge, breaking it down to figure out why something felt so odd. His stress reaped no progress, a cement roadblock placed within his mind as he listened to the bridge so many times the sound began to feel alien.

Sighing, he closed over the laptop he’d brought with him as an aide.

It felt like a question he couldn’t find the answer to, and even when he tried to listen to other sections of the song, the wall remained strong in his mind. He couldn’t forget about it, couldn’t move on until he solved whatever annoyance was disrupting his song.

Perhaps Jimin was right, Chanyeol thought, not everything needed to be perfect.

 

☽ ☾

 

The next time he saw Jimin, Chanyeol found himself stood with his mouth wide open – Jimin had invited him to the dance studio on the Sunday to showcase his choreography for Chanyeol’s song. Whilst Jimin’s singing had often left Chanyeol awestruck, he was unable to detect even one flaw in the way the other’s body moved. It was almost beyond words, the way in which Jimin progressed from gentle movements to incredibly graceful.

When the song finished, he turned to Chanyeol, eyes bright with anticipation as he wiped the sweat from his face.

“What do you think?” He was breathing hard.

Chanyeol opened his mouth to reply, attempting to ignore the way the other boy pushed a hand through his damp hair. Something stirred within him, then, and he averted his eyes as though the sight was taboo.

“I don’t really… know much about dance,” Chanyeol started, and Jimin nodded, “But, it was perfect? You put that together in a day?” Jimin nodded again, “It was incredible, holy shit.”

Jimin grinned, “You can take some of the credit, it’s your music.”

“I’m pretty sure you could dance to silence and I’d be in awe,” Chanyeol admitted, before realising those words had really just left his mouth.

There was a flash of something unreadable across the dancer’s face, then, perhaps toeing the line between consideration and realisation.

“Do you wanna get lunch?” Jimin asked, sauntering over to his bag in the corner, “I need to shower first, though.”

“Lunch would be good,” Chanyeol answered, his stomach giving a tell-tale rumble at the thought of food.

Jimin laughed, his head thrown back and his neck exposed – Chanyeol was unable to look away, this time, and instead allowed his own lips to pull up into a smile. His insides felt lighter, like the butterflies within his stomach were somehow carrying him.

As Jimin left to shower, Chanyeol took the other exit into the corridor. He only slightly jumped when two pairs of eyes landed on him.

“Finally,” Yixing greeted with a smile, “I thought you were going to be in there all night.”

Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows from his position on the floor aside Yixing and Chanyeol refused to blush. He stared at the two in distrust, before noting the way Yixing seemed to lean into the other dancer when he laughed – the way Hoseok’s fingers were toying idly with the rips on Yixing’s jeans. When did that happen?

“It’s lunchtime,” Chanyeol clarified, ignoring Hoseok’s snort, “Jimin was just showing me something.”

“Something?” Yixing teased.

“A dance,” He retorted in a deadpan voice.

The two nodded, and Chanyeol slid to the floor to join them in idle time killing – a thread of anxiety remained at the back of his mind, a thought telling him he didn’t have time to kill, to go to lunch with Jimin when the bridge of his own song was a literal mess. He didn’t understand, the few lines of music fit perfectly within the rest of the song, the flow simple yet pleasant to listen to; and yet, something remained so strongly dissatisfying.

“So,” Hoseok was smirking, “He danced for you?”

“Yes, why is this even- _oh_. No, he didn’t dance _for_ me, he was just _showing_ me his part for the performance on Thursday. And anyway, I thought you were supposed to be in China?”

Yixing nodded, uncrossing his legs, “My flight is tomorrow. He’s cute, right?”

“Who?”

“Jimin.”

Chanyeol frowned, “Jimin’s cute?”

“I’m flattered,” Jimin said from behind him, and Chanyeol felt his heart drop into his stomach because _oh fuck_ , “I personally prefer hot, do you think I’m hot?”

Chanyeol stared at him, mouth falling open rather comically, "Uh. Yes."

Jimin seemed to smile with his whole face, and Chanyeol found himself struggling to look away.

The two opted for lunch at the bakery a small walk away from their campus, squeezing themselves into one of the small, cosy booths with their food. Chanyeol didn’t mind, the small atmosphere was homely, and he was hardly here for the comfort of food. Jimin seemed to glow in his post-dance haze, his cheeks still flushed from the exertion in a way that threatened to push Chanyeol’s mind down _different_ paths.

“So, how’s the song bridge?” Jimin asked, taking a bite from the pastry.

Chanyeol sank further into his seat, “Something is still missing.”

He was then distracted by the vibration of his phone, the two of them silently continuing their lunch as Chanyeol thumbed open the message.

 

_[the byun]_

_> pizza and chill??_

_[sent]_

_no. im out anyway <_

_[the byun]_

_> you have friends other than me? offensive_

_[sent]_

_dick. im with jimin <_

_[the byun]_

_> OH _

_> IGNORE ME _

_> HAVE A NICE TIME LOVERS_

 

“I think you’ll find it,” Jimin began, continuing at Chanyeol’s confused face, “Whatever the bridge is missing. You’ll find it.”

“I hope so,” Chanyeol nodded, wiping the crumbs from the table in front of him, “Do you want to be scouted?”

“At the showcase?” The other asked, and Chanyeol nodded, “I guess. I’ve always wanted to dance as part of a real company.”

“What about singing?”

Jimin considered him for a moment, wiping his mouth with the napkin, “If they think I’m good enough, of course.”

“You’re good enough,” Chanyeol said, almost too quickly, “You have a really…” _beautiful,_ “nice voice.”

The knowledge that Jimin had intentions of being scouted only made the weight on Chanyeol’s shoulders double – there was no way he was allowing his own song to get in the way of Jimin achieving his dream. His determination to fix the bridge only grew stronger, and he already knew he’d spend the night perfecting it.

After lunch, they lingered around the busy high street like they had nothing better to do, like go home, where it was _warm_ – it wasn’t as though Chanyeol would be going home, not with the pressing issue of his dumbass music and his inability to fix something so simple. He planned to hole himself away in the studio until something sensical emerged from the effort.

Jimin already seemed confident with the song, but Chanyeol knew the dancer would most likely remain in the dance studios until the early hours. The showcase was important, not just for the status of their college, but for their own potential prospects.

They had to present their work to Junmyeon the following day – it wasn’t an actual performance, at least, as the professor had requested that they perform for him and the head of department on Wednesday; in three days. Regardless of Chanyeol’s pre-prepared work, it was difficult to attempt confidence when given a week to perfect a performance. There was no comfort for perfection, here, and every performer strived for perfection. Talent scouts required perfection.

Before their return to campus, Chanyeol had stubbornly purchased cotton gloves for Jimin and his constantly cold hands – it was in that moment that he remembered he was Jimin’s secret Santa and _holy fuck_ , he’d somehow allowed himself to forget. Buying gifts for his friends was one thing, but for Jimin? Was it meant to be a practical gift or something with meaning?

Chanyeol handed over the gloves wordlessly, and for once, Jimin seemed speechless.

“You have cold hands,” Chanyeol clarified, “Not to be a creep, but I’m mildly worried for the blood circulation in your hands.”

Jimin laughed, hitting him with the gloves yet smiling wide, “I always lose my gloves, okay? I’ll keep a closer eye on these ones. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

 

The familiar smile remained blinding, forcing Chanyeol to focus on the street in front of them.

Walking back to campus with Jimin somehow felt purposefully long, as though they’d both managed to find solace in the break from their work. Their steps remained slow, tongues talking about nothing and everything irrelevant – aside from his dance major, Jimin also undertook psychology classes. Chanyeol was unsure how the two were possibly side by side, yet Jimin flourished regardless.

Chanyeol felt a little boring, like there wasn’t much he could say about himself. His musical studies hardly compared to the classes of the other – yet it made Chanyeol respect him all the more, if that had been initially possible.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn’t intended to work himself up over something so basic, yet here he sat, eyes feeling dry and frustration peaking as he allowed the bridge to play through for another countless time. He was unsure for how long he’d even been sat with his eyes glued to the screen, the fight slowly draining from him as he realised it was entirely possible that this was something that couldn’t be fixed.

His track couldn’t be perfect, Jimin was right, and yet he was so unwilling to accept that.

Rubbing his hands over his tired face, Chanyeol let out another groan of frustration as he pressed down unnecessarily too hard on the button to pause his song. What if his own failure to participate efficiently in his major was the reason their performance was entirely lacking?

_Fuck it_ , the frustrated voice inside of him yelled as he deleted the entire bridge.

It took a few moments for his decision to settle in, to realise that this song was due to be shown to Junmyeon in 8 hours and he’d just fucking _deleted_ a major section of his _stupid_ work.

Something inside of him snapped, then, and he pushed himself to stand a little too hard, his chair almost toppling over at the force. He ran a hand through his hair, every sense within his body on edge and frazzled like a wire with too much electricity buzzing through it. He pathetically wanted to cry, to email Junmyeon and tell him to participate in the fucking prelim performance himself.

He couldn’t do that, though, not when Jimin was working so hard.

His phone buzzed, a secondary reminder for Jimin’s text he’d yet to reply to. Instead of replying, however, his thumbs typed out something his mind needed.

 

_[sent]_

_are you still here? <_

_[park jimin]_

_> you should be ASLEEP  > yeah – studio 7. come see me?_

Chanyeol didn’t reply, again, and instead pocketed phone. It was 3am, the studios were empty and so he left his mess of a creation behind, body and mind tense as his legs walked him in the direction of the dance studios. He couldn’t tell the other he’d deleted the bridge, that he was unsure he could even _fix_ the bridge despite Jimin’s belief in him.

Jimin took one look at him, his greeting dying on his lips as he slid on his jumper and pulled Chanyeol from the studio. Chanyeol didn’t attempt to speak, merely let the smaller pull him through the corridors with his hand around Chanyeol’s wrist. When they finally exited the building, the cold air hitting Chanyeol’s burning face like ice to a burn, Jimin let his wrist go.

His hand fell to his side as he asked, “Where are we going?”

“For a walk,” Jimin answered, eyes wandering to the dark sky above them, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol replied, all too quick to be convincing, “Just… minor technicalities.”

“Is it the bridge?”

“Yeah.”

Jimin looked up at him, then, “We can work on it together, when we get back. I don’t know much about composition, but a second pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt.”

Chanyeol swallowed, brain hardly registering the stars above them as he confessed, “I deleted the bridge.”

It took Chanyeol a couple of seconds to realise Jimin had stopped walking, and he turned, regrettably sheepish as his eyes met Jimin’s. The other’s eyebrow was raised, and yet there was not a slither of disappointment nor anger in his eyes – his hands were busy pulling on the black gloves Chanyeol had previously bought for him.

“Can’t you undo it?” Jimin questioned, stalking closer to Chanyeol after he’d pulled on his second glove, “Computers have an undo button, right?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol let out, rather stupidly, “You’re right.”

Jimin reached forward, next, and Chanyeol froze. The smaller zipped up Chanyeol’s hoodie, and it was then that he realised he’d been shivering – he’d hardly noticed the cold, before, his frustration deeming body temperature irrelevant. His feet were beginning to feel like they were finally on the earth, again, the haze in his mind clearing with each step they took.

Somehow, purely meeting Jimin had made his evening of utter despair all the more better. Was it possible to even fall for someone so deep when you’d only ever known them from afar?

Their walk was silent, but not uncomfortable – Jimin hummed as Chanyeol played with the sleeves of his own sweater, his eyes finally taking note of how bright the stars were. He forced himself to ignore the lyrical parts of his brain that wanted to compare Jimin to the stars above their heads, he could already hear Baekhyun’s annoying chime of _that’s gay_ as the other caught his eyes, offering a small smile.

They eventually stopped beneath a streetlight, a metal bench illuminated by the light above sitting at its base. Jimin climbed onto the bench, perching himself along the back of it with his feet planted where one was supposed to sit – Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie out of lack of anything better to do.

“Why are you so stressed about this?” Jimin asked, hands reaching out to toy with the zip of Chanyeol’s hoodie, “I understand that the showcase is important for everyone, but it’s not something we haven’t done before.”

“The same reason you’re still here,” Chanyeol pointed out, watching the puff of steam leave his mouth as he spoke, “We’re perfectionists.”

“Perhaps, but you needn’t worry so much.”

“I want it to be perfect,” He admitted, leaving out the _for you_ he was certain Jimin still heard, “I want you to be scouted.”

“Your heart is too big, Park Chanyeol,” Jimin began, pushing himself to stand on the bench, “And now, I’m as tall as you.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his laugh, the act hardly funny but warming his insides regardless. Jimin was smiling, his cheeks rosy from the cold as he watched the taller laugh. A little self-conscious, Chanyeol felt himself blush despite the cold and buried his chin into the neck of his hoodie.

“What?” He asked as the smaller continued to stare.

The smile remained on Jimin’s face, “You’re beautiful when you laugh. It’s so heartful. Genuine.”

“Oh.” And Chanyeol tried to keep his mouth closed, to not allow his stupid mouth to fall into a comical ‘o’ shape in response to Jimin.

His heart seemed to beat harder in his chest, the blush on his cheeks spreading down to warm his neck as he found himself unable to say much more than _oh_.

Jimin’s hand, the one toying with Chanyeol’s zipper, tightened, then – he used it to pull Chanyeol forward, to pull their mouths together as the gloved hand slid to his neck. In shock, he almost forgot to kiss _back_ , his response delayed as he tilted his head to better slide their lips together. Jimin’s lips were cold, but his mouth was warm, the hot air between them nothing in comparison to the sudden burn of adrenaline through Chanyeol’s veins.

Upon separating, Chanyeol’s mouth remained open, the shock within him preventing his tongue from making full sentences.

“What…” Chanyeol trailed off, and Jimin _laughed_ , “I’m… _When_?”

“The first day of choir,” Jimin responded like it was the easiest thing in the world, “You were suggesting new compositions for the end of semester performance, and I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen when you began to play the piano.”

Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, the majority of his heart in disbelief, “I… You… What?”

It was Jimin’s turn to act embarrassed, his smile wide and vulnerable as he continued, “Sometimes, I’d record your instrumental previews and listen to them when my studies grew overwhelming. Is that weird?”

His heart seemed to swell in his chest, overwhelmed by such a strong feeling of adoration and lightness that he leaned forward, catching Jimin’s lips with his own. It was a little sudden, going by the muffled noise of surprise at the back of Jimin’s throat as he kissed Chanyeol back – but he was smiling into their kiss and Chanyeol felt like he’d somehow been stuck in a dream.

“It was the first day of choir for me, too,” Chanyeol admitted, watching Jimin’s eyes widen, “When you sang, and I fucked up the melody of the song. Completely your fault, by the way.”

“Oh,” Jimin let out, grinning, “I remember that.”

“It _was_ your fault,” Chanyeol practically whined, looking down at their feet.

Jimin surprised him with a little kiss to his nose, before the smaller jumped from the bench and tugged Chanyeol’s sleeve in the direction they’d just walked. Chanyeol’s mind was a little haywire, a mass of questions without words and filled with confusion – rather generically, he considered the possibility that his own stress had driven him insane, and this was something his stupid mind was making up. That, or he was dreaming.

As they lingered nearer campus, Jimin made no move to head for the dance studios – Chanyeol continued without questioning, a little embarrassed at his frustrated outburst over the bridge stress when the recording studio was in sight.

“So,” Jimin began, blinding Chanyeol with his smile, “Undo the deletion of the bridge, and we’ll fix it.”

Chanyeol nodded, undoing his earlier mistakes. They sat in silence, Jimin spinning in half-circles on his chair as they listened to the bridge of the song; Chanyeol cringed, staring down at his feet as Jimin started the track again.

“Here,” The smaller said, pausing the track, “What do you think about adding your own vocals? Then, I can harmonise with them.”

Shrugging, Chanyeol pulled the microphone into position. He’d already butchered this section of the track countless times, Jimin’s suggestion couldn’t hurt. He did as suggested, adding his own vocals as another layer to the bridge; Jimin’s head nodded along in appreciation, patient with Chanyeol even as he stumbled over his words and had to repeat the process all over again. Eventually, it was complete, and Chanyeol was too tired to add more stress to his mind.

He just hoped Junmyeon would save his disappointment for Chanyeol alone, and not Jimin.

“Finished,” Chanyeol announced, copying the layer onto the appropriate sections of the track, “Should we run through it once more, then call it a night?”

Jimin nodded, “Only if you sing with me, too.”

Chanyeol wanted to roll his eyes, to call the suggestion unnecessary – but then he looked at Jimin, his wide eyes full of hope that Chanyeol had no intention of breaking. He nodded, restarting the track and watching Jimin as the first verse of lyrics filled the room. Jimin’s voice was quite possibly Chanyeol’s favourite sound, regardless of how many times he’d already said that statement.

As the bridge approached, Chanyeol couldn’t help but tense – it had been running through his mind all weekend, the mere idea of it filled his mind with exhaustion. But, as Jimin sang, as he harmonized so effortlessly with the vocals Chanyeol had added, Chanyeol’s eyes widened in awe. As simple as that, he sank back into his chair, watching the seconds of the track tick by in utter shock.

Jimin sent him a look, and Chanyeol looked away in mild embarrassment – as promised, he sang with Jimin, a little quieter, a little less controlled and in utter bewilderment of the other boy. Bewilderment, perhaps, and something that lined his veins with a lightness complemented by the butterflies in his stomach.

The song ended, and Chanyeol opened his mouth – to say anything, to fill the space between them with endless comments and appreciation for the amazement that was Park Jimin. Nothing left his mouth, however, his lips hanging open rather comically as Jimin laughed, the sound light and aimed directly at Chanyeol.

Without much thinking, Chanyeol surged forward – his lips found Jimin’s just as easily as they had on the bench before, and Jimin’s sound of surprise was forgotten when Jimin kissed him back, kissed him until his head was swimming and the smaller was pushing Chanyeol back into his own seat. Jimin was on his lap, moulding their lips together and stripping away every ounce of control Chanyeol ever had.

Upon pulling away, Chanyeol couldn’t help but glance down to Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips, to the blotches of red on the otherwise unblemished skin. Jimin peppered his face with kisses, then, and Chanyeol blushed; he’d said it before, but it felt almost impossible for this to be so easy. For them to fit together easier than any jigsaw Chanyeol had attempted to solve.

He looked down to where Jimin’s thighs straddled his, noted the way the muscles shifted when Jimin moved and ignored the stirring of his lower stomach that the image brought.

“Skip your morning classes,” Jimin said, and it wasn’t posed as a suggestion, “You need to sleep.”

Chanyeol glanced over Jimin’s shoulder to the clock on the wall, widening his eyes at the 4.27am flashing back at him, “You need to sleep, too.”

“Then I’ll skip if you skip,” Jimin grinned.

“How is everything with you so simple?” Chanyeol’s mouth let slip, before his mind caught up with the words, “Not that you’re simple. You’re not simple. This feels simple, us, I mean.”

Jimin watched him with amusement in his eyes, “We’re simple?”

“Uh,” Chanyeol let out again, “No?”

“It’s okay, I understand what you’re trying to say,” Jimin saved him, looping his hands behind Chanyeol’s neck, “It’s comfortable. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

Chanyeol nodded, “I am, but you should probably get off my lap before something embarrassing happens.”

He meant it as a joke, but the way Jimin’s ass was snug atop his thighs sent his mind in other directions. Jimin tilted his head, his expression unreadable – and then he smirked, and the brief arousal Chanyeol was trying to ignore threatened to double when Jimin shifted his hips with purpose.

Jimin leaned forward, and Chanyeol expected the kiss, this time – he just didn’t expect it to wind him, to take the breath from his lungs as he was left a wide-eyed, panting mess. Jimin smiled, almost innocently, before he climbed from Chanyeol’s lap.

The smaller then saved their latest additions to the track, before logging Chanyeol out of his account and shutting down the computer.

Suddenly, the latest frustration and stress from fixing this track felt worth it.

 

☽ ☾

 

Both the day of the performance and the secret Santa gift exchange was fast approaching and Chanyeol was nothing but clueless. Sure, he and Jimin had spent the next two days inseparable, hidden away in studios and given leeway on deadlines to prepare for the arts evening. It almost felt a blur, their continued practice for their performance and the stolen kisses when their friends were suddenly absent.

They’d agreed on keeping whatever they were between them both – only to get their own back on Baekhyun and Taehyung. Chanyeol didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that their dumb Cupid plan had worked. They kept their _thing_ quiet, personal, and most importantly, _theirs_.

During one of their rehearsals, Chanyeol sat with his back straight and fingers on the keys of the piano, Jimin had decided he wasn’t going to sing. Chanyeol looked up in confusion after realising the other hadn’t started, yet, and was met with a pair of eyes watching him so intently that his fingers immediately stopped. Jimin was holding the microphone in one hand, but his attention was wholly focused on Chanyeol.

“Um,” Chanyeol tried, suddenly self-conscious, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Jimin answered, apparently content to continue watching the taller, “Everything is perfect.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, removing his hands from the piano keys altogether.

Jimin smiled, and Chanyeol swallowed, “I am, now.”

“If you two are quite finished,” Junmyeon said from the doorway, and Chanyeol’s soul almost left his body, “The head of department is ready for you, now.”

Junmyeon disappeared as quick as he’d appeared, and Chanyeol let a slow breath deflate from his lungs – with two days until the arts evening, it was vital that the head of department didn’t absolutely hate their performance. Jimin offered him a small squeeze to the shoulder, and even through the layers of clothing Chanyeol felt the shiver run down his back.

 

☽ ☾

 

The secret Santa gift exchange was the following morning, and, of course, Chanyeol’s dumb ass had left it until the night before. In his defence, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to buy Jimin, the past few days had been filled with them perfecting their performance and late-night dinners crammed in after practice. It had been nice, and yet Chanyeol felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop; life was never this easy, or _fun_.

Regardless, Chanyeol had stayed up well into the early morning as he spilled over fruitless ideas. It wasn’t until one of his old friends messaged him that an idea sprung to mind.

 

_[kim jongin]_

_> yo are u up?_

_> lmao ofc u are, u never fucking sleep_

_[sent]_

_wow, hello jongin, long time no speak <_

_how are you? im fine, thanks for asking <_

_and fyi i do sleep <_

_sometimes <_

_[kim jongin]_

_> I’ve been busy, damn_

_> ANYWAYS, are you still coming to the performance tomorrow?_

_> my mom cancelled, so, y’know, I was hoping for a familiar face_

Oh, shit. Chanyeol had completely forgotten about Jongin’s debut stage – a flush of shame washed over him, he could remember how excited Jongin had been when he’d called Chanyeol to gush about the whole ordeal. He was a bad friend. Except… Jongin’s debut stage was on the Wednesday evening, and their performance was on Thursday. He could still make it.

_They_ could still make it. Jimin was a dancer, he was _passionate_ about dance and with recent promotions, it was almost impossible that he hadn’t heard of Kim Kai, right?

 

_[sent]_

_I’ll be there!! <_

_uh, bro?? <_

_can I ask a favour? <_

 

☽ ☾

 

The morning of the secret Santa, Chanyeol slept in.

He awoke to the sound of persistent knocking at his door, and with a groan, dragged himself from beneath the warmth of his covers. He pulled open his door, eyes squinting at the light as the annoyance of Byun Baekhyun pushed past him and into his room.

“Good morning!” Baekhyun greeted, all too loud as he turned on the light.

Chanyeol groaned again, choosing instead to close his eyes, “Why are you here?”

“I was late, and you weren’t answering,” His friend informed, throwing open Chanyeol’s wardrobe doors, “Why would I turn up to class, late, alone?”

He mumbled something incoherent in reply, climbing back into the safety of his bed as Baekhyun rummaged around. Clothes were thrown on top of him, and he managed to ignore them until a heavier weight landed on top of him.

“So, what did you get him?”

“Get who?”

“Jimin.”

Sighing, Chanyeol pushed himself to sit up, tumbling Baekhyun onto the floor, “How did you do it, anyway? Get me to pick his name?”

“Well,” Baekhyun drawled out, grinning up at him, “We gave you a box full of Jimin’s name, so, you know, it was inevitable.”

Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol couldn’t find it within himself to be annoyed. It had worked, after all, and now he and Jimin were… well. He didn’t know, hadn’t asked due to the slither of anxiety that suggested this was nothing more than a fling. Regardless, he was choosing instead to live in the moment.

With Baekhyun practically dragging him out of the door, they made it to the music department just as members of the choir had begun to gather – Jimin also stumbled in late, his sleepy eyes lighting up the moment he realised Chanyeol was there. Chanyeol smiled, unable to stop himself as Jimin plopped himself atop the table next to Chanyeol.

“Okay, so!” Jongdae began, his voice loud, “The whole point of secret Santa is that it’s a _secret_ , but I already know that half of you idiots snitched on each other.”

Chanyeol saw Kyungsoo grin, and rolled his eyes – Kyungsoo had always been good at figuring out who had him for secret Santa, and then giving them a list of appropriate gifts that no-one would lose eyebrows over. It was known to happen. Somehow, Taehyung had gotten his Professor crush for the secret Santa – then again, he and Baekhyun had arranged the entire ordeal.

People were busy collecting their gifts from the table at the front of the room, but Chanyeol’s present for Jimin was in his backpack, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to give it to Jimin in a room full of people. As the others began to migrate to the other side of the room, Jimin flashed him a smile that made his heart flutter.

“I know you’re not supposed to know who bought you your gift,” Chanyeol started and Jimin cocked his eyebrow, “But, you would’ve figured it out anyway… considering we have to go together.”

He handed Jimin the envelope, fighting the nerves threatening to shake his hands as Jimin slipped the paper from his grip. Jimin pushed his finger under the seal, curiosity in his eyes as he removed the tickets – Chanyeol watched, biting his lip as Jimin’s eyes scanned over the contents of the tickets.

Jimin’s eyes widened, “How did you… even get tickets for his debut? It’s been sold out since the day it… oh my god, are these backstage passes?”

“I was kinda hoping…” Chanyeol trailed off, “You’d want to go with me?”

“Oh my god,” Jimin repeated.

Using his position atop the table, Jimin scrunched two hands into the front of Chanyeol’s jumper and pulled him into a kiss. It was like Chanyeol’s mind had gone blank, like the only thing relevant in his world at that moment was Jimin – it wasn’t until he heard the annoyingly familiar _whoop_ from Jongdae’s direction that Chanyeol’s mind returned to the choir room.

He smiled up at his maybe-something, blush painting his cheeks and yet, he cared not.

“I was kinda hoping…” Jimin copied Chanyeol, a grin pulling at his lips, “You’d want to be my boyfriend?”

It wasn’t like Chanyeol hadn’t expected the question, they’d clicked the moment they met – from the moment they’d kissed, it had been easier than breathing. Perhaps Chanyeol was in a constant state of dramatics, but that was irrelevant when his heart raced every time he as much as looked at Jimin.

“Yes,” Left Chanyeol’s lips, but it was quiet, a moment shared between just the two of them.

There was a faint blush on Jimin’s cheeks and Chanyeol laughed – the smaller instead pushed a large bag into Chanyeol’s chest, and he looked down in surprise. Inside were a collection of Ryan plushies of a variety of sizes; Chanyeol had a soft spot for plushies, he’d even been sad when a luggage limit forced him to leave his own at his parent’s house.

“Uh, I saw a selfie you posted,” Jimin explained, smiling sheepishly, “There were a bunch of plushies in the background.”

Chanyeol knew the selfie his _boyfriend_ was talking about, it had been taken in his old room at his parent’s house – his collection of Rilakkuma plushies had littered the headboard of his bed. Jimin had seen the selfie and purchased a bunch of Ryan plushies… Chanyeol decided not to correct him, the plushies were cute and he was pretty sure he’d accept a straw hat graciously if Jimin had bought it for him.

The smiled remained on his face all day.

 

☽ ☾

 

“Holy fucking shit,” Jimin said.

They ignored the disapproving frown of Junmyeon.

Chanyeol was so happy he could cry – he might have shed a tear, or two, or three… regardless, his heart was full of something light and happy, and he smiled proudly at his boyfriend. The smaller was practically vibrating from adrenaline, the sunshine smile pulling his lips into the bright familiarity Chanyeol found comfort in.

Their performance went well. It went better than _well_ , because Jimin had been fucking _scouted_.

They’d attended Jongin’s performance the night prior and Chanyeol had found amusement in Jimin’s fanboy nerves upon meeting Jongin – Jongin may have been intimidating on the stage, but off the stage he was like an excitable puppy. Chanyeol had (rather smoothly) dropped in a hint or two that Jongin should come to their performance… to which Jongin had agreed, and brought with him representatives from his dance company.

They’d been impressed by Jimin, had given him their _business card_ and told him to call at his next availability.

Chanyeol let out an _oomf_ has Jimin practically tackle-hugged him, leaving the taller temporarily winded and yet unable to even consider letting go. He squeezed Jimin back, pulling him tighter into his chest – he had no words for a moment like this, for being scouted had become such a rare thing. He’d only ever known two people to be scouted, and Jongin was one of them.

“Party, tonight, Baekhyun’s place,” Taehyung announced, completely oblivious to the couple’s private moment.

Random members of families and friends littered the hall around them, support for the performers of the night – he saw Jongin offer him a grin, before the dancer slipped through the doors and out of sight. As for Jimin, the smaller had finally released Chanyeol’s waist as he thanked Junmyeon for his congratulations.

Post-performance highs were common, the addition of Jimin merely amplified that and Chanyeol had never felt happier. They bowed goodbye to more of their professors, before Jimin’s hand in his was tugging him through the exit.

“Thank you, Chanyeol.”

He looked down in surprise, “For what? I told you, you’re _talented_.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “You wrote the masterpiece that got me scouted, and anyway, I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then, what?”

“Existing,” The dancer grinned, stepping away from Chanyeol to avoid the playful shove.

When they were together, it was like they had no intention of separating to do their own daily tasks in peace. Baekhyun called it the honeymoon phase, but Chanyeol had fallen for Jimin a long time ago – and somehow, _somehow_ , Jimin was just as enamoured by Chanyeol.

He’d never been in Jimin’s room, before; he’d eaten dinner in Jimin’s kitchen and curled up on his sofa, but the bedroom felt like a whole other level. Especially when it was Jimin leading him, pulling Chanyeol down to his level so they could add another kiss to their endless list – Chanyeol was pretty sure he remembered all of them, simple memories still making his lips tingle.

Chanyeol was pushed to lay on Jimin’s bed, but it wasn’t awkward – it wasn’t like his mind could process ‘awkward’ with Jimin’s lips trailing down his neck, hot breath making the hairs on his arms stand on end. A brush of teeth below his earlobe made him gasp, for his ears had always been sensitive and somehow Jimin _knew_.

His boyfriend pulled away, peering down at him with a grin on his lips, “You think I’m hot, huh?”

“I mean, if that’s what you prefer,” Chanyeol teased.

Jimin hummed, watching his boyfriend carefully, “I think you’re beautiful.”

The resultant blush surprised neither of them.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin confirmed, continuing to observe, “You’re so cute when you blush, and you blush every time I compliment you. Do you like being praised, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol’s blush _deepened_. He kept his lips sealed shut.

The smaller used Chanyeol’s shirt to pull him into a seated position, his thighs straddling Chanyeol’s own. Jimin’s grip merely tightened when their kiss deepened, Chanyeol a little more confident as he let his hands splay atop his boyfriend’s thighs. He could feel Jimin’s smirk, even as his lips repeated their path down his neck – it was rougher, this time, powered by intent.

Jimin’s hips began to move, each rock in time with his lips as his fingers teased the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt. Chanyeol raised a hand to Jimin’s hip, his grip tight enough to bring Jimin’s ass closer – Jimin let out a chuckle, ridding them both of their shirts before letting his hands trail across Chanyeol’s chest. The rings on his fingers were cold, sending a shiver down Chanyeol’s spine as one hand traced over his nipple.

“You have lube, right?” His voice sounded breathless already.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, before he cocked his head slightly, “Can I ride you?”

Chanyeol almost choked, the way his grip tightened on Jimin’s waist an answer in itself.

“Please,” He let out.

Jimin seemed to so easily take the lead. It turned Chanyeol on.

The heat on his lap was missed as soon as it disappeared, his boyfriend opening the bedside drawer as he pulled his jeans off – Chanyeol did the same, his half-hard length already straining against the front of his underwear. Jimin merely raised an eyebrow, shamelessly removing his own underwear and leaving Chanyeol to stare at his bare thighs and ass with a dry mouth.

His boyfriend handed him the drawer’s contents, before climbing back onto the bed and Chanyeol didn’t hesitate, catching the plump lips with his own as Jimin’s bare ass landed in his lap – he gave a small squeeze to the smooth skin of Jimin’s thighs, before his hands slid back to grip Jimin’s ass. Jimin gasped, tugging at Chanyeol’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Chanyeol opened his mouth, granting Jimin’s tongue entry as he poured the lube onto his fingers; he warmed the lube up between his fingers as Jimin continued to kiss him, before slowly pushing a finger into the tight heat. Jimin didn’t tense, instead reached down to free Chanyeol’s cock from his underwear – as Chanyeol began to pump his finger, Jimin gathered their cocks in his hand and slid them together.

“Shit,” Chanyeol let out, peering down in time to see Jimin move his hips.

The rocking of Jimin’s hips slid his cock against Chanyeol’s, his hand wrapped around the both of them – Chanyeol had to keep himself from fucking into Jimin’s fist as he added a second finger, merely gasping as his boyfriend added lube to both of their cocks. The slide was easier, now, the rock of Jimin’s hips growing larger as he began to push back onto Chanyeol’s fingers.

Chanyeol’s fingers were long, and he knew if he curved them just right, Jimin would feel _good_ – so he did just that, the sound of Jimin’s moans going straight to his own dick.

Jimin’s other hand anchored onto his shoulder, the grip tightening when Chanyeol began to scissor his fingers in preparation for a third. He willed himself to keep his hips still, to not give into his urges lest he not last long between them – Jimin was beginning to pant, his hot breath hitting Chanyeol’s neck.

“I’m ready,” Jimin managed to groan out, pulling away from Chanyeol to situate himself.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol was rubbing a thumb over his boyfriend’s hip.

Jimin groaned as he moved forward, sliding Chanyeol’s fingers from him, “I’m sure.”

Holding onto his boyfriend’s hips for support, Chanyeol couldn’t help the loud groan that left his lips, his head thrown back in bliss as Jimin lowered himself onto Chanyeol’s cock. Eventually, Jimin’s ass sat snug atop Chanyeol’s thighs – he slowly traced his hands along Jimin’s thighs, massaging the muscles there as they waited.

“You feel so good,” Chanyeol murmured.

Jimin began gently, rocking himself atop Chanyeol’s lap in a similar fashion as before. Soft moans left his lips and Chanyeol could do nothing more than stare, to take in how beautiful his boyfriend really was – especially like this, so open and bare, his blonde hair askew and his head thrown back in bliss.

And then Jimin began to ride him, and Chanyeol’s mind went _blank_.

Hands on his chest pushed him to lean against the headboard, hands leaving Jimin’s hips to grab the sheets in ecstasy. He slowly began to match his boyfriend’s rhythm, raising his hips up as Jimin slammed down – losing track of how many times he moaned, he couldn’t help but blush as he opened his eyes to find Jimin watching him.

“So beautiful,” Jimin began, hands looping behind Chanyeol’s neck as he planted a kiss at the corner of his mouth, “Every inch of you.”

Jimin began to drop himself onto Chanyeol’s cock harder, the taller unable to get coherent words out. His grip on the sheets tightened, his muscles straining in a silent plea as he tried to keep himself together.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” He continued, smirking when he felt Chanyeol’s dick twitch, “Fucking me open so well, so _good_.”

Chanyeol’s arms tensed, his fingers still grasping desperately at the bedsheets as the overwhelming coil in his lower stomach threatened to break. He saw Jimin grin, hair a mess, before his boyfriend tangled a hand in his hair – lips were on his neck, again, teeth dragging over his skin until hot breath hit his ear.

“Are you close, baby?” Jimin’s voice was a murmur, his hips moving with all the grace of a dancer, “Are you gonna come?”

He could only nod, a moan slipping out of his lips when Jimin rocked harder, _faster_ , and Chanyeol was left gasping for oxygen when Jimin’s teeth nipped at his earlobe.

“Then come,” Jimin said, panting, “Come for me, Chanyeol.”

And Chanyeol did.

Letting go of his last threads of control, Chanyeol’s body tensed and white-hot pleasure blinded his mind – his hands were on Jimin’s hips as he pumped into his boyfriend, filling the condom as Jimin’s ass rode him through the shocks of pleasure. He kissed Jimin, then, before reaching between them to stroke Jimin to completion.

Jimin’s body stilled, white streaks painting their torsos as Jimin all but curled around Chanyeol in pleasure. The moan he let out was soft, his chest rising and falling as he lowered his head to rest on Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol slid a hand up Jimin’s back gently, caring not that the skin was damp with sweat – he wrapped his other arm around his boyfriend’s waist, the silence allowing them to catch their breath.

 “Thank you,” Jimin repeated his words from earlier, “For being you.”

Chanyeol’s automatic reply left his lips without a thought, “That’s gay.”

“We’re literally dating, you dick.”

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two should be up within the week! thank you for reading.
> 
> [my exo twit](https://twitter.com/vrsehun) | [question?](https://curiouscat.me/aluhan) | [my bts twit](https://twitter.com/qhixtape)


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